"Until I was too old to hunt, you too weak to sew the robes or cook the food."
"What would happen then?"
"We would die," said I. "The world would end, would have to begin all over again and wait twice ten million years until man again was evolved from the amoeba, the reptile, the ape. When we died, this dog here would be the only hope of the world."
She looked at the eternal hills in their snow, and made no answer. Presently we turned to our duties about the camp.
It was understood that we should stay here for at least two days, to mend our clothing and prepare food for the southern journey. I have said I was not happy at the thought of turning toward that world which I had missed so little. Could the wild freedom of this life have worked a similar spell on her? The next day she came to me as I sat by our meager fireside. Without leading of mine she began a manner of speech until now foreign to her.
"What is marriage, John Cowles?" she asked of me, abruptly, with no preface.
"It is the Plan," I answered, apathetically. She pondered for a time.
"Are we, then, only creatures, puppets, toys?"
"Yes," I said to her. "A man is a toy. Love was born before man was created, before animals or plants. Atom, ran to atom, seeking. It was love." She pondered yet a while.
"And what is it, then, John Cowles, that women call 'wrong'?"